


Burn Your Bridges

by Lliaq



Series: A Knife, A Death, A Tattoo [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Canon, kind of a Diego through the years type of thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliaq/pseuds/Lliaq
Summary: He's 17 when he leaves





	Burn Your Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> This started at as a weird amalgation of "I kinda want to write about Diego leaving the Academy" and "How'd he get the scar?" and turned into this. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it is what is.  
> Not beta-ed, if you find any mistakes feel free to point them out  
> also me referencing things from another fic that I haven't finished yet? More likely than you think

He's 17 and leaves in the morning, not even bothering to make a secret out of it. Klaus already knows, Vanya knows, and Dad probably knows too because that's just how he is.  
What Luther and Allison think is on the bottom of the list of things he cares about.  
And Ben is gone.  
It hasn't been the same ever since. It hasn't been the same since Five disappeared, really, but losing Ben severed whatever fragile bonds they still had. And he can't take it anymore - the heavy silences, the furtive glances and whispered accusations. It wasn't anyone's fault, but they all feel responsible.  
The door closes behind him and the whole wide world is ahead of him now. No more rules, no more dad. Just him. Freedom.

The exhilaration of freedom doesn't last very long. Because as it turns out, he didn't think this through enough.

He's 17 and alone, hungry and running low on money. And he _technically_ doesn't have a place to stay.  
It's not going great.  
He applies for jobs where he can, but no one wants to hire a 17 year old without work experience and no home address. His plans of joining the police academy have ground to a halt. He meant to wait, until he was old enough for the exam, but that was before Ben. Before everything fell apart.  
He _could_ go back, of course, but he'd also rather die than go slinking back to the old man and proving once again that he's a failure. Not good enough. Never good enough.

So he turns to the only thing he _is_ good at.  
Except, going out to kick ass without a team takes some time getting used to. As annoying as his siblings can be, on a mission they always have- _had_ each other's backs. There's no one to watch his six now, or to call out a warning when there's suddenly three instead of two guys.

His knife goes sailing over his shoulder and he hears it impact with a wet thud, but that crucial second was enough for the other guy to recover and pull out a knife of his own. The cold metal reflects the light from a nearby streetlight and it's all the warning he gets.  
He tries to duck, but it's too late- white, hot searing pain emanates from his temple and he blinks rapidly, trying to get rid of the blood dripping into his eye. Fuck, it hurts - but he can't afford to let the pain slow him down. He stumbles back a step or two, hand reaching for the knives strapped to his belt.  
One, two, three, they go flying in rapid succession, and the guy starts to run, cursing loudly. Normally, he'd chase after him, but he feels about two seconds from passing out. There's blood running down the side of his face, dripping into his ear, into his eye, and he's starting to come down from the adrenaline high. A punch here, a kick there - his fucking head. Everything hurts. One hand pressed against his bleeding temple, he collects his knives and, with one last look at the two knocked out guys, walks away.

He makes it about half a block before he gets too dizzy and has to stop, leaning heavily against the wall. He's not sure where he's even going. The laundromat where he slept last night? A hospital? The academy? Mom could stitch him up, no problem. But he really doesn't want to deal with Dad. He can already see his cold eyes, always judging, in his head.  
In the end, survival wins. He can't pay for a hospital, so that really only leaves him with one option. That's halfway across town. How the fuck is he even going to get there?

Not at all apparently, if his body has any say in the matter, because it feels heavy and the side of his head throbs in sync with his heartbeat - and really, standing shouldn't take this much effort.  
He sits down, even though he knows that once he does, he probably won't get back up. Laughing to himself, he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.  
If only dad could see him now. A total failure, just like the old bastard always thought. There's a reason he wasn't number one after all.  
His thoughts are starting to grow kind of fuzzy. Maybe this is it. This is how it ends. Maybe he'll see Ben again.

Instead of Ben, he sees Klaus. Maybe that means he's dead anyways.  
"-ego! Diego!"  
"Go 'way." he mumbles, half-heartedly swatting at the hand that's shaking his shoulder. "'m tired."  
"I know- okay, okay, this is- Diego, c'mon, hey, hey, stay with me."  
The hand is slapping his face now. Not hard, just enough for him to pry is eyes open reluctantly. Well, one of them anyways. The other one refuses to cooperate. It feels sticky and heavy and he's not sure why. Come to think of it, he's not sure what's going on. What happened?  
He blinks sluggishly, trying to focus on the face in front of him, but the best he gets is a blurry, distorted version of his brother.  
"We gotta get you back home." Klaus says and Diego shakes his head mutely. He regrets it instantly, when the motion makes his entire head throb with pain. There's an exasperated sigh.  
"Listen, Diego, I get it, I do, but you're literally bleeding out, man."  
"'m fine."  
"Oh for fuck's sake, Diego!" Klaus grabs his shoulder and his waist and for a few seconds Diego has no idea what he's trying to do, until his body starts to move and yeah, no, _no_. He's not on board with that.  
Neither is his stomach.  
"Ew, gross." Klaus comments, but seems otherwise unaffected by the content's of Diego's stomach.  
"Come on, big guy. Mom will fix you up."  
"Mom..." he mumbles, hazy images of blond hair and smiling pancakes drifting through his mind.  
"Yeah, yeah, that's right, mom. She'll be happy to see you."  
"But dad..." he tries to protest, but he doesn't really have the energy for it. He's so _tired_ and jesus, Klaus can barely hold his weight. They're not going to get far like this.  
There's silence - always notable when it's Klaus. It doesn't last long though. Less notable.  
"Hospital then?" And of course, if anyone would get it, it'd be Klaus.  
"No money." he mumbles, blinking his eye open. Huh, he doesn't even remember closing it again.  
Klaus huffs. "Well, I'm not gonna let you die out here. So pick one. Or I will."  
"Can't you- y'know?" he asks, gesturing vaguely at his head. His hand drops down like dead weight after a second. Did he mention that he's tired? He just wants to lie down and sleep.  
"Uh, hell no." Klaus says immediately, then sighs, and Diego can imagine him rolling his eyes.  
"Maybe I could stitch you up, but you need a transfusion or something. You've lost like, how much blood? How long have you been sitting there?" "'dunno."  
"Exactly." Klaus says. He kind of misses what Klaus says after that because he's getting all fuzzy again and his legs don't wanna work anymore. That's all right. Lying down sounds great.  
"Shit." is the last thing he hears, sort of muffled and like it's coming from far away, before everything goes dark.

* * *

 He's 18 when he wakes up to a white ceiling and bright fluorescent lights that make his eyes burn.  
"Lookie lookie, who's awakey~" someone sing-songs next to him and he closes his eyes with a groan.  
"Go away, Klaus."  
"Oh, is that the thanks I get for saving my dear brother's life?"  
Diego grunts in response, but he can't quite suppress a smile.  
"How'd you find me, anyway?" he asks, opening his eyes again and squinting at his brother. Klaus makes a weird face, just for a split second, before he breaks into a grin that's just a touch too wide to be real.  
"Well, you know, I just _happened_ to be in area, there's this _really_ amazing diner, they have the _best_ burgers and-"  
Diego tunes out at that point, knowing full well that Klaus is telling him anything but the truth. Maybe it doesn't matter, but it stings. Somewhere deep down. When'd they start lying to each other?

"-and that's when I saw _you_." Klaus finishes dramatically, waving his hands. Diego snaps back to attention. As much as possible. They must have given him something for the pain, because his head hurts, but not as much as it probably should, and he feels kind of drowsy.  
"So," Klaus says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "What happened? Didn't get a chance to ask before you passed out on me and all that."  
Diego opens his mouth, closes it again.  
When he left, he was so sure that he had it all figured out. He was going to join the police academy, do something good, be _better_. Turns out, he's figured out shit.  
"I-"  
Klaus looks at him expectantly, but every so often his eyes shift around, looking at things only he can see. He's been doing it for as long as Diego can remember, but he never really realized. Never paid much attention to it. Just filed it under _Klaus things_.  
"Who's here?" he asks, in lieu of answering Klaus' question, because honestly, he has no fucking idea what to say. Klaus' mask drops for a moment and when he rebuilds his walls, they can't quite cover all the darkness behind his eyes.  
"Oh you know, just your friendly neighborhood ghosts."  
"Klaus-"  
Klaus waves him off, but something's shifted and Diego could kick himself. He just had to bring it up, didn't he?  
"Well," Klaus gets up, dusting off his leather pants, "It seems like you're alright now, so I'll just be- on my way."  
Diego silently watches him go, hesitating. It's not until Klaus reaches the door, that he says, "Klaus, wait."  
He half expects for Klaus to ignore him and just leave anyways, but Klaus stops and turns back.  
"Are you- are you going back home?" Diego asks. Honestly, he didn't really plan what to say. He just doesn't want Klaus to leave.  
Loathe as he is to admit it, being on his own and alone all the time isn't all that it's cracked up to be. It sounded a lot better in his head. But the truth is that he misses his siblings.  
Well, maybe not Luther.

Klaus stares at him for a second, head cocked to the side, before something like realization dawns on his face.  
"Oh, you don't know." he says, not a question. Just a simple observation. One that immediately brings about a hundred questions to Diego's mind. Did something happen? Is everyone alright? What _doesn't he know_?  
Klaus seems to notice his growing distress and takes a step away from the door, shrugging his shoulders and saying "There's no home anymore."  
"W-what do you mean?" Diego asks, throat closing up with fear. Are his siblings okay? Is mom okay?  
"Everyone left." Klaus says. "Well, not everyone. Luther stayed. _Shocking_ , I know."  
Diego relaxes back into the bed, relief taking over - _they're okay_ -, while Klaus keeps explaining. "Vanya moved out the day we turned 18, and Allison ran off to LA a few weeks later."  
After taking a moment to digest the news, he frowns at Klaus. Who very deliberately didn't mention himself.  
"And you?"  
Klaus gives him a wry smile, spreading his hands out. _Hello_ _Goodbye_  
Diego questions how he didn't notice them before, but he barely has time to wonder when Klaus got them before Klaus keeps talking.  
"Left the day after you did."

Klaus pauses, doing some weird facial expressions at the air by the window, before shrugging again and turning back to Diego, clapping his hands.  
"Well, you're all caught up on the family drama now. And I have places to be, things to do, sooooo...." He drags out the last word, glancing at the window again. "Yes, _important_ things."  
Diego doesn't know if Klaus is talking to him or whoever's by the window, but he supposes it doesn't really matter. It's clear that Klaus doesn't want to stay and he's not going to ask.  
"Right." he says with a tight smile.  
"Right." Klaus repeats, lamely.  
After a beat, he smiles brightly. "Well, see you around, brother dear. Do try and don't get yourself killed, yeah? I wouldn't want your broody ass haunting me all day."  
He waves, _goodbye_ , and is out of the door before Diego has time to respond.

When he's released a week later - turns out, two of his ribs were fractured - he still hasn't figured who anonymously took care of his hospital bill. Not that he isn't grateful, but it's like an itch under his skin that he can't scratch. He briefly wonders if it was dad, then scoffs at the thought.  
Yeah right.

But now he has to figure out what to do, again. He never even got to ask Klaus where he was living now, or Vanya, for that matter.  
It's a stroke of luck that has him wandering into a gym two weeks later, tired and sore and hungry. No one's paying attention to him, and that's just fine by him. He sneaks through the back and finds the boiler room. It's dusty and grimy, but also warm and away from prying eyes. A place to rest, for a little while at least.

The boiler room becomes his safe haven for a few weeks, until the owner starts getting suspicious. He leaves, making sure to take everything he's collected over the weeks. It's not much, not more than he can carry.  
It's up and down from there on. He finds a job, then loses it not soon after, then finds another one and loses that one too. He sleeps where he can, when he can, fights crime at night and just tries to survive.  
It's thankless and lonely and sometimes he thinks the only thing keeping him going is spite.

* * *

He's 19 and hasn't seen any of his siblings since Klaus saved his life. Unless you count Allison's face plastered on posters and the side of a bus. Good for her. At least one of them got their shit together.  
But Klaus and Vanya are in the wind and even if he wanted to see them, he has no idea where to look. It's a big city. And he's gotten used to being alone. It's fine. He doesn't need them. He doesn't.

Growing up with six siblings made alone time a rare occurrence.  
There was always someone shouting, talking, playing music, it was never quiet. And for a while, the absence of all that noise really bothered him. He would sit in the boiler room, in the dark after everyone in the gym had left, and it would be so, so quiet. So quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat. It was unnerving and made him ache for Klaus' inane chatter.  
When they were younger, Klaus broke his jaw and he couldn't talk for _weeks_. Back then, Diego couldn't have imagined anything better than the blissful silence.  
Then silence turned into a nightmare.  
Now he thinks he likes it again. He's used to it, if nothing else.

By some miracle, he manages to get into the police academy.

He's 20 and scarred, both from the childhood he so desperately wanted to leave behind, and the freedom he was in no way prepared for.  
But he's trying.  
He aced the physical, no surprise there, but honestly, he has no idea how he managed to get through psych eval. His head is a mess. But as long as the mess stays in there, it's all good, he supposes.  
It's strange to be around people again, every day. To talk to them and hang out with them. He's never really had friends that weren't his siblings. As everything, it takes some getting used to.

Things are better now. He has friends, and his own apartment. It's not much, a glorified closet, really. A moldy closet. But it's _his_.  
Sometimes he thinks there might be something more between him and Patch, but she's so focused on getting through training, and he's so focused on not getting kicked out - turns out, he's got some issues with authority - that it never really goes anywhere. They dance around each other and flirt and pull back and round and round they go.  
It's not perfect. No one knows who he really is, his friends don't even know his real name. He stops the vigilante thing because he's been running himself ragged, trying to keep it up alongside his training, and tells himself he doesn't miss it.  
He runs into Vanya at a diner one night and they talk without really talking. The whole family is real good at that.  
But they hang out sometimes, slowly rebuilding whatever bond they had as children.

He's 21 when he gets kicked out of the academy, two months away from graduating.  
Truthfully, it's been a long time coming. He never felt like he really fit in, too many rules, too many regulations. He's had enough of that for a lifetime. But it was stable and now he's lost his apartment. Shitty as it was, it _was_ a roof over his head.  
He sleeps in his car and listens to the police scanner he swiped from the academy. And when he grows tired of the kinks in his neck and the ache in his back, he goes back to the gym.  
Al gives him the boiler room in exchange for wiping the floors. It's not glamorous. It's tedious and dirty work, but he does it. Most of the time. Sometimes he fights, when he's low on cash, or when he needs to blow off steam. It takes him a while to stop throwing knives at Al every time he hears steps outside his door.  
It's not a perfect system, but it works.  
Dora likes the leather, even though she doesn't admit it.

He's 22 when he talks Klaus off a bridge and the whole ugly truth about his family comes out. At first, only to Dora and Mitch. Then the whole world.  
  
They're not exactly close, but Vanya must have been working on her book for a while. And she never said anything. Not a single word.  
She just put all the messed up shit dad did to them, and the resulting trauma, out there for the whole wide world to see. Things that were never meant for anyone but them to know.  
He rips out the back of the book and tapes it to a punching bag, hitting it until the page is in shreds and his knuckles raw.  
They don't talk anymore.  
Klaus disappeared again. He keeps an eye on the streets and an ear on the scanner, just in case.  
Dora and him are on and off. She likes the leather and hates the knives. She wants more than he can give her. It's good for a while and then it falls apart, brick by brick. Just like everything else in his life.

He wears his knives like armor.  
He's 23 and alone, but he's saving lives and that has to count for something.  
  
Right?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it :)  
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://lliaq.tumblr.com)


End file.
